


Pseudonym

by deerna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Gabriel Reyes, Just a tiny drop of angst, M/M, Mention of break up, Pre-Slash, Writer Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: Jesse makes a living out of writing trashy romance novels, but a bad break up gives him the worst writer's block. He finds inspiration in Gabriel's coffee shop. Or maybe just in Gabriel, really.Jesse felt like he could spin a thousand stories just looking at Gabriel; with those wide shoulders hecould'vebeen a superhero, or a soldier, or maybe a firefighter, but he also had careful hands like a surgeon or a florist, and the passionate, kind tone of a teacher. He could've based a thousand characters on him, and God knew Jesse needed all the help he could get, stuck as he was with his writing. Well, that was his excuse, anyway.





	Pseudonym

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this fic has been fermenting in my pc since 2016 so it's now fine wine and ready to be consumed. Actually I don't know if it's any good, but I couldn't stand to see it in my WIP folder anymore so I straightened it up a little and posted it. The ending is lame! Sorry about that.

_Teddy holstered the gun and tipped his hat, with a blinding smile_ — no. Backspace. _As he holstered the gun, a hint of a smile touched his lips. Teddy brought up a hand to pull down his hat_ —no, no. Backspace. _Teddy holstered the gun, a hint of a smile on his lips. He touched the brim of his hat with two fingers,_ and then what? Jesse huffed and drummed his fingers against the table. He re-read the few lines he had written and grimaced, smushing a hand against his face. This wasn’t working. He probably would’ve done better to scrap the whole thing and starting over.

“I was going to ask how your writing was going, but that scowl says it all,” a familiar voice interrupted his pondering.

A warm bubble burst and spread in Jesse’s chest as he looked up and saw Gabriel standing next to the table, gorgeous and attractive in his black apron, the words _Black Beans_ embroidered in dark red and white on his breast; as usual, Gabriel Reyes didn't look like he belonged to a coffee shop, but at the same time he definitely did.

“Hey there,” Jesse croaked, then coughed to clear his voice. He closed the lid of the computer. “Ah, yeah. Today is a complete dud, but I’m used to it. Morning rush finally over?”

“It’s over, let’s stop talking about it,” Gabriel said, gruffly, making Jesse laugh. “Oh, this is for you. Latte with an extra shot of espresso and two pumps of chocolate, right?”

“As if y’ever gotten an order wrong— but wait— I didn't—”

“It’s on the house, don't stress about it.” Gabriel waved him off and sat down. “I like spoiling my regulars from time to time.”

Jesse took a sip of very much needed caffeine and sighed. “You’re a literal superhero, you know that? The man who saves the day with a giant cup of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

Gabriel laughed. “I just own a coffee shop, I’m not saving the world.”

"Sounds fake, but okay," Jesse replied, giving him a skeptical look from behind the cup ruined by the twitch of his lips as he tried not to smile. Gabriel laughed again and sipped at his own cup.

Jesse felt like he could spin a thousand stories just looking at Gabriel; with those wide shoulders he _could've_ been a superhero, or a soldier, or maybe a firefighter, but he also had careful hands like a surgeon or a florist, and the passionate, kind tone of a teacher. He could've based a thousand characters on him, and God knew Jesse needed all the help he could get, stuck as he was with his writing. Well, that was his excuse, anyway.

The truth was that he’d been smitten the very first moment he’d seen him; Gabriel had looked extra grouchy and unapproachable while he was cleaning out the coffee machine, but, as soon as he saw him get closer to the counter, a smile appeared under the moustache and blinded Jesse. It was more like a close mouthed grin, playful and friendly, but the way it warmed and softened his whole face was just... _magical_. He came because Genji worked there and had told him to get out of the house instead of moping, and he stayed for the gorgeous, friendly owner.

Yeah, he got it bad. It had just gotten worse since Gabriel had taken to spend his mid-morning break sitting with him.

“You know, I never really asked,” Gabriel said, setting down his cup. “I know you're a writer, but what do you write? Are you one of those bloggers?”

“Oh hell, no,” Jesse blurted out, a bit too quickly. Gabriel snorted.

Jesse laughed, embarrassed. “I mean, ain't nothing wrong with bloggers— I’m just- not one of those, no.” He _did_ have a blog, actually; with all the tv shows and movies he’d watched in the past ten months instead of working on his novels, it had seemed a good idea to post reviews, just as a way to keep himself in the habit of writing. It beat staring at a blank page. “No, I’m a novelist.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Really? And you’re like, a published author or—?”

Jesse took a sip of his coffee, stalling. “Yeah, I mean. You probably won't see my books adapted into feature films anytime soon—” That would've been his dream, but it didn't quite work out. It had been so long that it didn't even sting anymore. “—but it's a living. I've got this permanent spot in this small publishing company— got them to hire me almost on accident. It's not very glamorous, but it ain't half bad, either. It pays the bills and I’m having more fun than I expected. Find the job you love and you won't work a day in your life and all that, you know?”

“Wow,” Gabriel whistled low. He looked very impressed; Jesse felt very lightheaded. “And what genre you write?”

_Here goes nothing_. “I write romance novels. The cheap, steamy ones.” He smiled, and wagged a finger at Gabriel when he caught him grinning behind the brim of his cup. “Don't laugh!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it's just—” Gabriel said, chuckling openly, putting his cup down. “Why romance?”

“Well, why not?” Jesse shrugged. “Actually, I hadn't planned on it. I have a spy story in the metaphorical drawer of my desk that was suppos’d to be my big breakthrough, but you know how these things go— I've got a pile of rejection letters as tall as a damn Bible at home somewhere. I had to find something that put food on the table or go hungry, so I looked for someplace where I could publish without an agent, and there was this little company that accepted submissions. It was guaranteed to pay, but they wanted erotica and romance only. So I adapted.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, no. I had to research quite a lot, and let me tell you, it wasn't all that easy,” Jesse said with a grimace, remembering. It had been torture at first. He'd always been a romantic at heart, but he had completely unfamiliar with the genre; so he’d spent a week studying cheap bodice-rippers paperbacks at the local library, bewildered and shocked that someone would willingly spend money on that crap. “But then writing— it was fun. It was freeing, you know? And as a genre it's actually pretty hard to master, it has all these tropes and expectations you need to fulfill—it ain't easy. Anyway, the company liked my first book so much they actually begged me to write more, so I did.”

“How many books did you publish with them?”

“Oh, you know.” He counted mentally. “A dozen?”

“Fuck, really? That sounds like a lot.”

“Uh. I guess it is.” Jesse scratched at his beard. “I actually published the first three or so in the first year—I really needed the money and their advance payment checks are very good—but then, well.” He grimaced. “Thank God royalties are good too, or I would be fucked now. I was supposed to publish another book last year, but—”

“Writer’s block?”

“Something like that,” Jesse murmured. “I just— I've been doing this for years. I've been telling myself that I surely could whip something up right now just for the hell of it but— I feel bad writing something that I don't feel. Even my first book— I wrote it almost as a _joke_ , I wasn’t really thinking of making a career out of steamy eBooks of all things but. But. It was a joke I _believed_ in.” He shook his head. “It sounds corny as heck, but it's almost as if love lost a bit of its magic along the way. It's really demotivating— after so many years of honest sap I didn't think my inspiration could dry up like that,” he concluded, sadness creeping in his voice and gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Sorry, I didn't want to unload all of this onto you.”

“It’s okay.” Gabriel went silent for what felt like a long moment, before spoke again. “It’s a bit corny, but being corny is your job isn't it?” He allowed himself the weak joke in a light voice, but his smile was kind and understanding.

He leaned towards Jesse and lowered his tone to a deep, velvety rumble. “Kidding aside, it’s not that uncommon a feeling, especially since—” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but you know Genji cannot keep his mouth shut to save his life— he mentioned you just moved on from a bad breakup.”

“It wasn't that bad,” Jesse replied automatically, then laughed at himself. Who was kidding? “I mean. Yeah, it was bad. I wouldn’t be in this mess otherwise, would I?” He wiped moisture from the corner of his eyes with a quick dab of his fingers. Fuck. “I thought we had dealt with it like friends but I was wrong. This is me pissed at myself for having feelings, I guess.”

“A friend of mine used to say that humans aren't made to be alone, that’s why they cling to every relationship they form, even when it's bad for them. It's really hard to let someone go, even though you rationally know it’s for the best.” He looked down at his coffee, or what was left of it, and Jesse felt his heart clench; there was a story there. “On the other hand, for that same reason people are drawn together all the time. This too will pass,” he concluded with one of those smiles of his, the ones that warmed Jesse from inside out.

Jesse smiled back. “I guess that if I can't see the magic I’ll just have to look harder.”

“That’s the spirit!” Gabriel chuckled. “You know, when you told me you write romance novels I laughed because I actually read a lot of it. What are the odds?”

Jesse blinked, and felt his jaw go slack. “Shut up.”

“It's true. I always read on the commute to work, it passes the time and cheesy stories put me in a good mood,” Gabriel said with a straight face, but there was a slight flush creeping up his neck. “There's an author I particularly like, though it's been a while since he published anything— Joel Morricone, maybe you heard of him?”

Jesse stopped breathing for a long second before he could find his voice. “Yeah, it sounds familiar.” He blamed it on the fact that his brain turned into mush when Gabriel was so close to him, on the fact that Gabriel made him believe in magic.

“The steamy bits are really hot,” Gabriel continued in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning and shooting him a wink. Even as he was basically having a heart attack, Jesse couldn't help but snort. “But actually I like his style in general a lot.” His eyes get distant, his hands start moving with his words. “When you start reading one of his books you can't help but get completely immersed in its characters’ world— it feels like you're really living the romance with the protagonist. Sure, every story is _very_ over the top—we're still talking about sweaty cowboys bending each other over the sheriff's desk in the wild west, here, it's not exactly rocket science—but you can tell that he does it on purpose. Every detail is so vivid it almost bleeds out of the page. It really makes you believe that life isn't as grey as it seems.”

Jesse swallowed, working around the lump in his throat with some difficulty. He could've told him then, that _he_ was Joel Morricone. He could've cried, because of the genuine appreciation that Gabriel was showing towards his silly books. He could’ve _kissed him_. “He seems really good, I’ll check him out,” he croaked instead. “Maybe he’ll give me the inspiration to write again.”

Gabriel beamed at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on twitter at @somewhatclear, although it's mostly Good Omens shitposting these days. Tickety-boo.


End file.
